Barbie
by PenMySword
Summary: How do you start a spark when you aren't in control of yourself? Like a puppet, like a doll, like a Barbie.


_This is a prompt of for the wonderful forum: May the Odds. The theme was Barbie, and this is just a short little one-shot that takes place in Catching Fire. Something that occurs during the interviews. Reviews are loved like cookies ~xoxo __**-PenMySword**_

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><p>I stare back at a girl, her name is Katniss Everdeen. She's 17 years old. She was in the Hunger Games. She won. The Capitol hates her.<p>

It takes a while for the fact to sink in, in which that girl is me. Yet when I'm looking into the mirror I don't see myself, instead I see a doll perfected and polished to the bone in a glamorous and captivating wedding dress. I look like a doll, like a Barbie.

"Has this dress always been this heavy?" I ask Cinna deliberately.

"I had to make more alterations because of the lighting," says Cinna

I uncomfortably squirm as the fabric of the dress tenderly rubs against my skin. I try to think of ways to wheedle my way out of wearing the dress, but before I can form a convincing string of words together for Cinna, he's a step ahead of me and my emotions.

"President Snow has requested for you to wear this," In a monotone voice says Cinna.

He makes a few, brief alterations to the dress as I willingly stand there, marveling at the beauty. The dress is extremely uncomfortable, yet it's ravishingly beautiful. The delicate hands of Cinna always create masterpieces beyond my understanding, each simple stitch enhancing its beauty one by one. The pure and delicate dress is beautiful, but while it's on me I can't help but feel that with each detail it deteriorates my personality, stripping me away from who I really am. The layers I've grown over time through district 12 are being peeled off as the capitol replaces it with a layer sufficing their likes. They try to fix me to become not who I really am, but who they want me to be.

I'm like a doll, with caked on make-up. A Barbie could easily represent my being. As I think about it, maybe a Barbie would do the capitol better, it's everything they want out of me, except better yet, it doesn't talk.

Like a doll or a puppet I'm controlled with no will over myself. I'm the merchandise that is sold to gain power. I am the toy, and President Snow is the puppet master pulling every string, the one controlling all of my limbs and if I'm not careful, like a Barbie, my head could be ripped right off of my body.

The thing is, the Capitol wants the glory and fame that comes with the title 'The girl on Fire' but behind closed doors, the inevitable truth is that they do not want the real fire that comes along with the personality. They are too scared to extinguish the fire so they hide it behind a mask, they control me like a doll.

No they are not oblivious, but they are obviously not knowledgeable enough to recognize that fire and plastic don't mix, and in the end the plastic will melt leaving them with only the ashes of their plan. The question is will there be enough fire to melt the fake? Will fire catch for the rest of Panem like how it had already spread among the hopes and spirit of the two runaways from district 8 Bonnie and Twill? What happens if I am stuck like this, controlled by the capitol and engulfed in their lifestyle denied of choice?

Is that all I am? A doll? A plastic Barbie?

Thinking back, all the memories float back to me, where I've been controlled, never truly allowed to choose.

Being reaped into the Quarter Quell, unlike my first Hunger Games, I had no control over. As well as being forced to marry Peeta, and told to distance myself from Gale. I was told how to dress, what to say, how to react and how to play out my life. Every step taken, were steps imprinted forcefully by the capitol.

I am Katniss Everdeen. I am 17 years old. I was in the Hunger Games. I won. The capitol hates me. It's all true, but I can't say much else about myself. After the games, I was forced to drift away from my true self.

Then a buzzer interrupts my thoughts, snapping me back into reality. I sit in front of the plethora of Capitol people dressed in different arrays of fashions and colours, all a disturbing wreck. People are crying, and sit in anguish awaiting the death of all of their most beloved victors. I am at the interviews, once again.

As if it were a routine, on my signal I begin addressing the Capitol Citizens, hidden behind a mask of disturbance and hatred I try to act pleasant and well-rounded.

"So Katniss, this is obviously an emotional night for everyone. Is there anything you would like to say?" Caesars time to interview me has come, and he asks this question professionally as if what's going on in the crowd isn't happening.

Like I'm intended to do, I begin to talk about how upsetting it is that I can't share my wedding with the Capitol and begin explaining my love for the wedding dress I was supposed to walk down the aisle in, not mentioning how uncomfortable and heavy it is and how it's weighing me down.

Like instructed by Cinna, slowly and gracefully I begin to turn around on the ball of my feet, raising my arms above my head as I turn.

Without warning, the dress begins to smoke and it's engulfed in a small vibrant flame as it creeps upwards on the dress. My thoughts run a thousand miles a minute, and I begin to panic unsure of what is happening.

As I stand in astonishment, within seconds the flames are gone leaving a thin layer of smoke behind that disappears into the air. Looking down I see something that amazes me. Light, small grey feathers cover me and my arms spread out to look like wings.

I now know that Cinna understands me. He knows that I need to be me, free and uncontrolled. Cinna started the flicker of a flame that begins catching through the crowd and I can feel it from the emotions of the crowd that all the fake and plastic is being melted away, and my real layers begin to come back together again. Fire is catching, and I am no longer a Barbie doll.

I am the Mockingjay.


End file.
